


Big Bad Wolf

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abusive Kate Argent, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Complete, Coping, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek has Nightmares, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Kate, F/M, Kate is psycho, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Not compliant with season 4, PTSD Derek, PTSD Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Set After Season 3, Spark Stiles, Stiles Takes Care Of Derek, Tortured Derek, Warning: Kate Argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows that someone needs and trusts him, and it's not his father or Scott - it's Derek.</p><p>After he discovers that Kate's kidnapped Derek, Stiles tracks him down, and with the help of the pack, Stiles gets his big bad wolf back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely and vaguely inspired by [these Tumblr gifs](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/84114184132/make-me-choose-meetmeathehangingtree-asked)

After Danny helped with hacking the iPad's GPS coordinates, Stiles just  _had_  to learn that skill for himself. He locked himself away in his room for the summer holidays - a month after the Kanima incident(s) ended, and shortly after Derek and Cora left for South America - and taught himself everything that Danny knew, and then some. (He wasn't  _wallowing_ , no matter what Scott said.) Stiles is proud to say that they haven't needed Danny since, and he's once again secure in his role as the necessary human in the pack.

At least he knows that someone needs him, and that someone trusts him without question, and it really shouldn't surprise him that it's not his father or Scott. His father trusts Scott more than his own son, and Stiles isn't surprised with the amount of lying he's done over the past two years, but it still hurts. And Scott betrayed them all to Gerard, and then didn't even check on Stiles after he was beaten up by that same geriatric asshole; Scott, who ditched his plans with Stiles to be with Allison and conveniently forget to tell Stiles who had waited outside of the cinema for three fucking hours before he could reach Scott on his phone; and the icing on the shittiest cake of cakes, Scott hanging up on Stiles after he'd spent the last two hours keeping both Derek and himself alive and afloat in the school pool, but then ringing his phone less than 15 minutes later because  _he_ needed help (Stiles had discovered that message after rescuing his phone's SIM card and the phone company saved his messages. Stiles had almost thrown his phone out the fucking window). No, it wasn't his father or his brother-from-another-mother that needed and trusted him explicitly; it was Derek Hale.

After discovering the cameras that Derek had installed in the loft, Stiles found out that he'd been kidnapped by Kate Argent (Peter disappeared that night, and Stiles could still recall his furious howl even now, months later) and spent the next month trying to track them down with his new skills while the pack tried to follow the distorted scent. Chris even helped them, his need to honour his daughter and bring Kate to justice bypassing his shock at Kate's return and the fact that she was his sister.

They finally made it to South America, Stiles shouting directions into his phone as Scott and the rest of the pack ran alongside his Jeep on the road, Scott's phone held in a collar around Scott's neck. Chris was driving him so Stiles could hack into a secure government site, use his own modified version of Google Earth and a satellite feed that he shouldn't have access to in order to find Kate and Derek (thanks in small part to cracking Scott's father's FBI password - no one would be able to find out it was him until Derek was safe, and that's all Stiles cared about right now).

On arriving to the underground bunker, Scott and Kira had taken Kate down with claws and bolts of electricity while Isaac made use of his new sniper skills and shot her full of wolfsbane bullets. Chris had waited in the car, but didn't stop Peter when he saw the ragged wolf running  _through_  the bunker's metal door. Together, they'd all made sure that Kate was dead, and while Peter and Scott burnt the bitch's ashes to make sure she stayed that way, Stiles made his way over to Derek slowly, trying to reassure him that he was safe now.

Derek had been electrocuted within an inch of his life, wolfsbane wrapped around his body seemingly daily, and there was evidence of mistletoe berries throughout the bunker. In short, Kate had worked very hard in her efforts to drive Derek completely and utterly insane. If it wasn't for the fact that Stiles trusted Derek just as much as Derek trusted him, he might have been worried about the wolf's ability to stay sane after he took him down from the electrified fence he was shackled on. Derek growled as Stiles undid the wolfsbane ropes that were wrapped around him, but he knew Derek was just trying to warn him about the wolf. He had a few tricks up his sleeve (while Scott had undergone his 'become a better werewolf' last summer, Stiles had undergone Deaton's sadistic 'I'm not going to tell you everything you need, I'll just wait until you screw up and work it out for yourself' druidic training) and undid the final rope, scrambling back quickly. Derek snarled and launched himself at Stiles, but a few grains of mountain ash were thrown to surround Derek completely and hold him in place before he could do anything. More than one sigh of relief was heard at that, even as Derek threw himself at the barrier, trying to break through. Over the next hour, there was a lot of snarling, growling, and roaring (a few that even had Scott wincing), but Stiles eventually guided Derek out of the bunker. When they were safely outside, Scott used his Alpha powers to calm Derek down (as well as Peter who didn't seem exactly sane right now - well, as sane as he'd ever been) and they made their way back to Beacon Hills.

Stiles looked over his shoulder to the backseat where Derek was seated, Scott and Isaac sitting on either side of the unconscious werewolf. He looked even worse than when he'd been shot with wolfsbane, but Stiles knew that he would be all right. Derek would make it through this, just like he had with every other challenge they had faced, and as always, Stiles would be right there by his big bad wolf.

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably write more for this, but I'll keep it listed as a one-shot for now because it could go either way, honestly.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up with a start when Derek woke up snarling. Derek growled and threw himself out of the bed, landing in a way that just _had_ to be painful. He winced on behalf of Derek and sat up straighter in the uncomfortable armchair he'd curled up on in the early hours of the morning when they'd arrived back home. Scott had suggested Stiles go home, but he'd refused. There was no way he was leaving Derek alone after everything he'd been through.

"Hey, big guy. It's all right, you're safe now. We killed Kate and made sure she stayed dead this time," Stiles said, voice quiet but firm.

Derek just kept snarling, eyes glowing blue as he swiped at Stiles with a clawed hand.

"Whoa, back down there, Sourwolf. I'm still human and don't want to bleed to death on your bedroom floor, okay? There's been way too much death in this place already," Stiles said, his hands up in front of him.

Derek's snarling continued, then he seemed to focus on Stiles' hands, and the noise gradually stopped. The blue filtered out of his eyes, his claws shortening to fingernails, and he stared at Stiles in disbelief.

"You've got ten fingers," he whispered, voice raw.

Stiles knew what he meant by that immediately, looking down at his hands for a moment. Normally he'd make a joke, but after the nogitsune, there was very little he wanted to laugh about. Instead, he just nodded in response.

"Yeah, just ten fingers. You're awake, Derek," he said softly, moving forward carefully.

Derek just watched him with a wary expression, but when Stiles was close enough, he let out a small noise of pure raw pain and pulled Stiles in tight, arms wrapped around him until his lungs burned. Stiles didn't care, hugging him back just as firmly, trying to silently soothe Derek as he openly sobbed against his shoulder.

Eventually, Derek exhausted himself, and Stiles found himself standing in the middle of Derek's bedroom with the werewolf collapsed against him. He slowly edged him back over to the bed and tucked Derek under the covers carefully. When he was certain that Derek was asleep, Stiles hurried out to the kitchen to get something to eat. He brought the food back into Derek's room and sat on the armchair to eat and watch over Derek as he slept.

Stiles would have liked to join Derek on the bed, to let him know even in his sleep that he was still there, but Stiles hadn't slept without having a nightmare for months. Now, he only slept for an hour or three at a time, not enough to get REM sleep, but enough to survive. So long as his father didn't find out, Stiles wouldn't be forced to take sleeping tablets every night. He hated them even more than not sleeping; the medication fuzzing his brain until he couldn't _think_ ; he felt as though his brain was wrapped in cotton wool, his body too big for the thoughts in his head, and the medicated six to eight hours of sleep never seemed to _help_ anyway.

Sighing, Stiles set aside the bowl after he finished eating and looked down to the books he'd shoved in his bag. He needed to learn as much as he could to keep the pack alive and well, Derek especially so. Grabbing one of the first psychology books, Stiles started reading, glancing up to check on his big bad wolf every few minutes.

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of both physical and mental abuse.

Two weeks later, Derek started running at Scott's suggestion. He ran from the moment he woke up until his muscles burned in protest, and then he ran some more. Stiles ran beside him, refusing to leave his side even though he wasn't used to this kind of physical exertion. Stiles was usually covered in sweat by the time they made it back to the loft, groaning as he dragged himself to the shower to ease his aching muscles and limbs. Derek waited outside of the bathroom every time, nervous and pacing, as if this was a dream and he'd wake up if he lost sight of Stiles for long enough. He was still having a difficult time believing that he really was awake, that he had been saved, that Kate wasn't coming back.

There were times when Derek refused to get out of bed, even after Stiles climbed into the bed and held him, both of them counting his fingers, and then counting Derek's to prove that it was real. Those days, Stiles just stayed in bed with him, both of them falling back to sleep with the covers wrapped around them. Derek hated to admit to it, even to himself, but even though he usually woke up a few hours later to Stiles' screams, at least he knew that it was real again. Stiles seemed to know what he was feeling, and reassured him with a quick grin, even as he slipped out of bed to get water to ease his throat.

"Feel like going for a run now, big guy?" Stiles asked on his return to the bedroom.

Sometimes Derek would nod, and they'd go out and run until Stiles protested his need for food, for water, for his legs to stop aching. Other times, he'd shake his head and Stiles would just get back into bed with him, counting their fingers aloud for both of their sakes. Even if Derek knew that he was awake due to Stiles' screams, it was a relief to be reassured of it.

Derek hated it when Stiles left to go back home, to get clean clothes, to look after his father, or whatever else it was he did before he was saddled with babysitting Derek. He felt as though he was locked in the loft with his memories and slowly driving himself insane, certain that he'd miscounted his fingers. The first time Stiles had left for one night, he came back to the loft to find Derek sitting in the centre of his loft, counting his fingers over and over. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_. There was no second time. Stiles went home, packed a bag of clothes, and when he returned, he made room in a drawer in Derek's tallboy for his things. Derek sat on his bed with his arms wrapped around his knees and his forehead resting on his forearms, counting to himself even though he couldn't see his fingers.

When Stiles felt that he needed to go home to check on his father, Derek was guided out to the Jeep to go with him. John had come home in the early hours of the morning to find Derek and Stiles in bed, counting their fingers quietly. He said nothing, and when he woke up to Stiles' screaming a few hours later, John wasn't even out of bed when he heard Derek calming Stiles down, their voices counting fingers again. After they returned from their run mid-morning, John made pancakes for them. While Stiles was in the shower, John let Derek know that he was welcome to stay for as long he wanted. Derek had blushed slightly, but nodded his thanks. When John returned home the next night, he wasn't surprised to find Stiles emptying out a drawer in his chest of drawers and filling it with Derek's clothes. Derek was lying on the bed, hands held up above him as he counted softly, barely a sound leaving his lips.

Despite seeing Scott every week or so, he still didn't trust himself to be alone with the True Alpha. There were things that Kate had said, things she had told him over and over, until he'd almost believed them. Even when he didn't want to believe them, she'd planted the seeds of doubt in his head, and they'd grown over the three months that she'd held him. She'd fuelled those little seeds of doubt with bouts of torture, by not feeding him or giving him anything to drink for days on end, by making him dependent on her for the most basic of needs. She had abused him mentally, physically, sexually, all the while telling him just how much he disgusted her, how she was lowering herself by being in his presence. She'd whittled at his _everything_ until he'd started to believe her, until he'd thought of himself as nothing, that he was to blame for everything that had ever happened to his loved ones. Since the fire he had already suspected that for himself, and her constant assurance that it was all his fault simply drove the point home for Derek. He would be the ruin of everyone and everything around him; it was his nature, his curse, and it hadn't let him down yet.

So when Scott suggested that they go running together, Derek almost hyperventilated at the thought, only stilling when Stiles put his arms around his body, as if he was holding him together through willpower alone. Derek couldn't let himself be the one to ruin the first True Alpha in a hundred years. He shook his head firmly, still gulping down gasps of air. Scott had seemed a little disappointed at his response, but nodded and left soon after, Stiles murmuring that they needed some time alone.

"Want to talk about it, big guy?" Stiles asked quietly, moving to look him in the eye.

Derek looked away first and shook his head. Stiles wouldn't say anything, wouldn't push him, and they both knew it. Stiles was more precious to him than Scott was as a True Alpha, but he couldn't let Stiles go, any more than Stiles would leave him. They were anchored to each other, and they would drag each other down into ruin before they would let go of the other. Stiles seemed to know this without Derek even needing to tell him, and he was grateful that they both knew that there was no redemption for either of them. Stiles would always wake up screaming, Derek would always need reassurance that he was awake, that he was alive, that Stiles wasn't just a figment of his imagination or a shadow in his head, and for now, they were both okay with that.

He had been Stiles' big bad wolf before all of this, and eventually, he would be once again. Until then, they just needed to keep each other anchored and remind themselves that they would survive as they always had: together.

...


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles woke with a scream, Derek's voice washing over him mere seconds later, hands clasped in his own as he counted out his ten fingers quietly. It had almost been three months since they'd rescued Derek from Kate, and they were slowly getting better. Some days were worse than others, but there were good days too. Stiles and Derek rarely strayed from the other's side, and while there were mentions of co-dependency and unhealthy relationships from both family and friends, neither one listened. They understood each other, and there was no way they'd willingly leave while they still needed the other.

Stiles began to relax, his chest no longer heaving in a panic, and grimaced at the sweaty feeling of the sheets. Derek didn't seem to mind as much, promising him that they'd change the sheets in the morning, tugging Stiles back down onto the bed to sleep. He sighed and let himself be coerced back to sleep, Derek's arm wrapped around him, and Stiles tucked in against his chest.

He woke with his alarm a few hours later, a nightmare buried beneath the surface. Derek woke up beside him, and it must have been obvious that Stiles had had a nightmare because Derek immediately tugged him close again. Derek squeezed his fingertips one at a time, eyes still closed in sleep, and counted out to ten until Stiles relaxed again.

"Okay?" Derek asked, voice a soft rumble in his chest.

"No," Stiles replied honestly, his own voice quiet at the admission.

"Want to talk about it?"

Stiles was quiet for a moment, wondering if he should ruin the day already with talk of his nightmare, of watching Derek being torn apart in front of him, of the nightmare changing until he was the one doing the tearing, the feel of his flesh under his fingers. He shuddered and shook his head quickly.

"Maybe later."

Derek didn't push him, didn't make him talk, and Stiles knew that the others would have done exactly that. He was glad that Derek understood that he didn't always need to talk. Instead, he wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist tighter, pressed a kiss to the top of his head and settled down against the mattress again.

It took Stiles a few moments to realise that he'd had his alarm on for a reason, and he wriggled his way out of Derek's embrace, running out to the bathroom a second later. Derek raised an eyebrow in confusion at his departure, but sleep tugged at his mind, and he fell asleep again. Stiles returned, showered and dried, about ten minutes later to find Derek still sleeping on his bed.

"Derek, I'm going, you coming with me?"

Derek grunted.

"Monosyllables are not helpful, big guy. Staying or coming?"

"Sleeping," Derek mumbled against the pillow.

"You can sleep in the car," Stiles offered.

"Can sleep in bed, too," Derek replied, voice muffled.

"Fine, I'm going without you then."

Derek muttered something under his breath at that, the words too low for Stiles to catch, but he understood their general meaning nonetheless, and grinned slightly. "I'm going for drive-through coffee. Extra sugar and cream, just the way you like it," he cajoled.

Derek groaned loudly, but rolled out of bed, hugged his pillow to his chest and followed Stiles out to the Jeep without another word of protest.

"Where are we going?" Derek asked as he got settled in the passenger seat, his head pressing his pillow up against the window.

"Got to visit Dad today; he's threatened to eat cheese-covered bacon for breakfast unless I go stop him."

"I'm in pyjamas, Stiles."

"Dad won't care. You can sleep on my bed, get your scent all over it again, if you like."

Derek made a grunting sound that Stiles chose to interpret as positive, and continued driving. He went through the café's drive-through for Derek's coffee, as promised, and woke him when they arrived at the Stilinski residence.

"C'mon, big guy. Got your coffee and my bed waiting," Stiles said, shaking him awake.

Derek blinked wearily, drank down the coffee in three large gulps, and stumbled out of the car. The Sheriff didn't even blink at Derek's state, simply opened the door for him, and both Stilinski men watched as Derek walked straight inside and up the stairs to Stiles' room.

"Right, old man, where's your breakfast?" Stiles asked with a grin.

"Heating on the stove. You're welcome to join me," John replied.

Stiles headed in to the kitchen to find a pot of porridge on the stove, not a bit of bacon or cheese in sight. "I'd like that, Pops."

"Good, now get out the honey. Plain porridge is awful, and a tablespoon of honey won't kill me."

"Teaspoon," Stiles retorted, opening the pantry to find the jar of honey.

"Two teaspoons."

"Deal," Stiles replied, setting the jar on the table and getting spoons out as his father dished up.

When they were both seated, honey-topped porridge in front of them, John looked at his son. He took in the pale pallor of his face, the dark circles under his eyes, but he had more weight to him than he had before Derek. If the nightmares were still continuing, then that was to be expected, considering everything he'd been through.

"How's Derek doing?" he asked, sipping at his coffee.

"He has his good days and bad days, same as me," Stiles answered with a brief shrug. "We're coping, taking it one day at a time."

"So this would be a bad time to bring up college?" John asked, actually serious about his question and not just jesting.

"What about it?" Stiles asked warily; he'd come to see his dad and make sure he was eating right, not for an interrogation.

"Several letters have come for you; maybe some are acceptance letters. Are you planning on going next year, or deferring for a year?" John asked. "I'm not asking for your decision right now, just curious," he added when Stiles started to get that closed-off look he'd been perfecting ever since Scott had been bitten.

"I'll look at the letters, but I'm not making a decision today. There are more things than myself that need to be taken into consideration, and I might defer, but I might also choose not to go to college at all."

John knew he had to tread carefully here. "That's up to you, son. Not going to college isn't something to be ashamed about; not everyone can learn by studying. But..." He took a deep breath here, glancing at Stiles' expectant expression. "But college is something that people - companies - are still biased towards, and may not understand that learning isn't something you can do without books and a hundred years of debt."

Stiles muttered here, something about college, banks, and debt, but let John continue.

"That being said, you _are_ good at studying and you _can_ learn from books. It would be a shame to see your future and potential be thrown away for ... someone else's benefit," he said hesitantly, thinking that he'd fucked up after all.

Stiles seemed to take a moment to take his words on board, rage boiling under the surface. John was expecting him to explode his words back out at him, sharp as barbs, as he might have done once.

"If I defer or decide not to attend college at all, it will be a decision I've made with my own health in mind. I'm barely getting through the night as it is, and yes, I need Derek with me to help me - just as much as he needs me, in fact - but that doesn't mean I'll be throwing anything away if I choose not to go to college. I can't connect with other kids out there, not after the nogitsune, not after the things I've done and seen. They couldn't understand any of it, and to be honest, I wouldn't _want_ them to. It's my nightmare, one I'm already sharing with one person too many, and I can't go to college for the experience of, what? Keg parties and frats and sororities? I can't do that, because I know those things won't make the nightmares go away. The only way I can cope with my nightmares is by being with Derek, and I know it's the same for him. We're keeping each other sane, and unless he tells me to leave, I'm not going anywhere without him if I can help it."

John was startled by how adult his son sounded; _though, perhaps that was just Stiles sounding tired? Was there a difference between being tired and being an adult?_  He wasn't sure he knew anymore. But besides all that, Stiles didn't raise his voice, he didn't explode, and he didn't say that John was making him choose because he honestly _wasn't_  and they both knew that. John nodded and headed over to the kitchen bench, collecting the pamphlets he had waiting, and took them back to the table.

"I thought you might say something like that, so I asked some of these colleges about online courses. If you want, you can stay right here in Beacon Hills and still get a degree. It's something to think about, at least," John said, placing the pamphlets down and refusing to force his son to take them against his will.

Stiles seemed to let out the breath he'd been holding, and flipped open the first pamphlet. It must have said something he didn't like, or didn't have a course he wanted, because Stiles put it aside and looked at the next one. He did this with the first three, setting the fourth aside, and then looked at the final two. One of each went into each pile, and John was dying of curiosity to know what Stiles had deemed suitable in the pamphlets, but instead, he took another bite of porridge and waited for Stiles to tell him if _he_ wanted.

"These two have counselling courses; it might be good to help other people, even if I can't help myself," Stiles murmured eventually, pushing his porridge around with his spoon.

John was surprised at his choice considering the careers Stiles had expressed an interest in over the years, but gave a nod and a quick smile. "You know the joke though, don't you?"

"What joke?" Stiles asked.

"All therapists need their own therapist."

Stiles' laugh was forced out in pure surprise, rough and raw like he hadn't laughed in years, and he shook his head at his father's joke. "Thanks, Pops."

"No problem, kiddo. Now, finish your porridge. I bought _oats_ for this, like I'm some damn horse," John added in a mutter.

Stiles grinned and took a big mouthful of porridge. 

...


	5. Chapter 5

"Psychology, huh?" Derek murmured, seeing the pamphlets sitting on the kitchen bench and the courses highlighted on the glossy paper.

"Yeah. They're online courses, too, so I don't have to deal with people," Stiles added. "Dad found them for me, actually. I'll see how I feel when it's closer to the application date; I might defer for a year."

Derek let out a soft sigh of relief to hear that Stiles wouldn't be leaving him, not yet, and moved to curl around him on the lounge. Stiles stroked his hair gently and Derek felt the tension ease out of him slowly.

"Want to go for a run today, big guy?" Stiles asked a few minutes later.

"Yeah."

"We'll head out in an hour?" Stiles asked.

"Okay."

Derek closed his eyes and let Stiles pet and stroke his hair until he fell asleep.

Kate was there when he dreamed, as she always was. She laughed at him and told him he was stupid, naive, an _idiot_ , for thinking that anyone could ever love him, a monster. He shook his head at her words, but she kept talking, telling him the truth as she always had. Scott had betrayed him, Stiles had threatened to leave him on the side of the road to die, Isaac had chosen Scott over him, Boyd and Erica had hated him so much that they'd run away and now they were dead, Cora couldn't even stand him enough to stick around, Lydia had used him to bring Peter back to life, the Sheriff didn't trust him, Peter manipulated him, Melissa hated him for bringing her son into the mess that was his life, Chris probably hated him even more for his wife and daughter's deaths, Ethan and Aidan had only used him to get into Scott's pack, and the nogitsune had beaten him while in the body of a skinny teenager. He was weak and constantly being used and he would never change because he was stupid, naive, and an idiot, just like he'd always been. Then she hooked him up to the wire fence and turned up the electricity, just to hear him scream.

Derek woke up with a scream, his clawed fingers dug into his thighs and the blood trickling down his jeans.

"Derek, it's okay. You're here with me. Look, see, _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_. It's all right, Kate's dead. She's dead, and whatever she told you was wrong, okay?" Stiles said, ten fingers hovering above Derek's line of sight until he could see them properly for himself.

Slowly, Derek pulled his fingers out of his thighs. It wasn't the first time that had happened, and by now, Stiles didn't even wince at the sight. He stroked Derek's hair gently, shifted him so he could stand up without dislodging Derek, and went to get a warm cloth to clean them up. Along the way, Stiles brought another pair of pants for Derek to change into. He cleaned the blood from Derek's fingertips carefully, making sure to get every drop of red, counting his fingers out again when they were finally clean.

"Want to talk about it?" Stiles offered when Derek was clean and changed, his jeans thrown towards the front door to throw out on their way out later.

Derek was going to shake his head, to keep his nightmare to himself as he always did, but instead he blurted out, "She wasn't wrong."

Stiles blinked in surprise that Derek was saying _anything_ about his nightmares, but just waited for him to continue.

Voice quiet, and staring at his freshly-cleaned fingers, Derek repeated everything Kate had said in his stone prison in Mexico, in his head every night since then. There was more than that, of course, the seeds of doubt that she'd planted about him ruining everyone and everything, including the True Alpha, but this was a start.

"Scott found you in Mexico, Isaac was there for you, Boyd and Erica were killed by the Alpha pack and our entire pack couldn't stop them, Cora loves you but she knew that neither of you were what you needed when she decided to go back to her pack in South America, Lydia was under Peter's thrall which is still as disgusting to her today as it was back then, the Sheriff trusts you with my life, Peter ... well, he is a manipulative bastard, but we all know that about him, Melissa is grateful that you're keeping Scott safe in the mess that is this world, not your life, Chris called in favours with the Calaveras to find you in Mexico and helped to take Kate down, Ethan and Aiden chose to fight with you when they could have gotten to Scott another way, and the nogitsune beat _everyone's_ ass while in my body, me included," Stiles muttered. "They all love you in their own ways, Derek, and they don't have to prove it for it to be true."

"What about you?" Derek asked, not looking up from his ten fingers.

"Me? Do I really have to say it, sourwolf?" Stiles asked with a slight grin.

Derek nodded after a brief moment. "Yeah, you kinda do."

"All right... I obviously didn't leave you on the side of the road to die, I held you up in that pool for two hours, I broke the mountain ash circle for you, I helped you save your sister, I didn't leave you behind when you were unconscious in the hospital, I tried to leave clues even when I was possessed by the nogitsune because I knew you'd be smart enough to solve them, I hacked into several government websites illegally to find you in Mexico, and I have barely left your side for the last three months. I love you, sourwolf, and I wish like fuck that we hadn't gone through half of the crap we've gone through in the last three years because then we might actually be at a place where we could say that to each other and not have it be seen as a bad thing."

"Bad things happen to everyone I love," Derek agreed quietly.

Stiles rose up onto his knees, cupped Derek's face in his hands, and kissed him firmly. Derek clung to him and kissed him back, just as hard and desperate.

"I'm sorry I can't love you enough to heal you," Stiles whispered.

"You don't have to, this is enough for now. Is it enough for you?" Derek asked, eyes closed and not daring to look at Stiles.

"Yeah, it's enough for now," Stiles agreed, thumbs stroking against his skin gently.

They stayed that way for a while, Derek's arms wrapped around Stiles body gently and Stiles not able to stop touching Derek now that he could. Then Stiles' phone alarm went off, and they kissed once more, pulling away slowly and reluctantly, both knowing that it would be the last time for who knew how long.

"Still want to go for that run?" Stiles asked, looking around for his shoes.

"Yeah," Derek agreed with a nod, bending down to retrieve Stiles' shoes from under the couch.

Stiles pulled his shoes on and tied them up as Derek found his and did the same, both of them heading downstairs silently a few minutes later. Derek threw out his bloody, holey jeans as Stiles locked the building door. They started jogging towards the preserve at a slow pace, both of them picking up speed as they reached their usual dirt path. It wasn't everything they wanted it to be, but it was what they both needed, and that was enough for now.

...


	6. Chapter 6

Derek had another nightmare the next night, the same it had always been for the last three months, Kate there mocking him and taunting him with her words. Derek curled in on himself, not letting her use his body as she often tried, and pressed his hands against his ears so he wouldn't listen to her. It didn't matter though - it never did - and he could hear her words repeating over and over, the exact same sneer in her expression as she'd always had. Then, with his ears still covered and blocked, Derek heard another voice.

The voice wasn't as loud and demanding as Kate's, but soft and almost _gentle_ instead, both of which were foreign in his nightmares. The voice was contradicting Kate's words, and despite the soft tone, the words were firm and certain. Some part of him recognised that it was Stiles' voice, and Derek opened his eyes. Kate was still in front of him, still hurling her abuse and seeds of doubt, but Stiles was nowhere to be seen.

He concentrated until Stiles' soft voice was all he could hear. Like Kate, the words were repeated over and over, and for the rest of the night, Derek fought to concentrate on the soft voice rather than Kate's. Sometimes he was successful - _they all love you; I love you_ \- but other times Kate's voice became louder and he couldn't block her out - _you'll ruin them; you're nothing to them_.

He woke up in the morning with claws extended and digging into his pillow, his knuckles white with the strain, but Derek didn't wake up screaming for once. He considered it a small success.

Stiles was still sleeping beside him, his body stretched taut under the covers. Derek frowned at the sight; Stiles usually became an octopus during the night, tossing and turning and his limbs flailing every which way until he almost fell off the bed itself (sometimes he did just that). As Derek shook the last of his nightmare out of his mind and leaned towards Stiles to check that he was really all right, Derek noticed a shimmering symbol on Stiles' forehead. He had never seen the symbol before, but his brain managed to connect the pieces together anyway, and Derek realised that the voice he'd heard in his nightmare - Stiles' voice - had actually been his real voice.

Stiles woke up with a shuddering gasp, his eyes wide and staring up at Derek above him. "H-hey, big guy."

"You were in my head, my nightmare."

Stiles blinked, but didn't refute it, and he eventually nodded. Derek moved back, sitting up and counting his fingers. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_. Stiles watched him quietly, not sure of what his response would be. Derek counted his fingers twice more, just to be sure, and then turned back to Stiles. He tugged Stiles up so he was sitting, then pulled him into a firm hug.

"Thank you."

Stiles was surprised; he hadn't meant for Derek to find out what he was doing, he'd thought that Derek would be upset for invading his privacy or something like that.

"Did you get any sleep while you were in my head?" Derek asked, his thumb brushing against the dark circle under Stiles' right eye.

"I don't know; I feel all right. Might have a nap later though, just in case," he said.

Derek gave a brief nod, then let his hand slip away. Stiles clambered out of the bed with all of his usual grace, narrowly avoided falling flat on his face when the sheet tangled in his feet, and he finally made it to the doorway without an incident. Sometimes Derek found it utterly amazing that the nogitsune had chosen to possess Stiles of all people.

"Come on, big guy. I know you hid the pancake mix from me, and considering I finally got that spell to work and you didn't wake up trying to claw yourself to pieces, I think we both deserve pancakes."

"How many times?" Derek asked, following him downstairs.

"Hmm?" Stiles called over his shoulder.

"How many times have you tried the spell?"

"Oh. Uh, let's see. I got the book way back then, then there was that whole thing that happened, and the other thing with those thingys," Stiles mused aloud, searching the pantry shelves. "Then there was that other thing. Then I found the book again. Took about a day or three to find the spell, then there was gathering the ingredients, and trust me, that wasn't easy... So, from _there_ , I guess that would make it about... Seven times."

Derek crowded up behind Stiles, ignored the slight widening of his eyes, and reached up to the back of the pantry shelf to get the pancake mix.

"Oh, awesome!" Stiles said with a grin. "Now, do you want yours with or without _blood?_ "

The last word ended with a shudder and Stiles collapsed, right into the pantry shelves and knocking several containers over as he did so.

"Stiles?!" Derek dropped the pancake mix, moving to check on Stiles and make sure he was all right, to see if he had simply fainted from exhaustion or if it was something else entirely.

The symbol on Stiles' forehead was glowing brightly, but before Derek could do anything, Stiles blinked his way awake, eyes wide with terror.

"Fuck," Stiles said, his voice shaky. "It's not real, it's not real. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_. Fuck, no. Not real, it can't be. Tell me it's not real."

"Stiles, what are you seeing? What's wrong?" Derek asked desperately, taking Stiles' hand and counting his fingers for both their sakes.

"There's so much blood, it's _everywhere_ ," Stiles said with a repulsed shudder. "Tell me it's not real. You can't see it, can you?"

"There's no blood, Stiles. I can't see anything. I can't smell it either. Can you smell it?"

Stiles sniffed deeply, his face slowly losing some of its awful sickly pallor. "I can't smell it. I can smell the pancake mix, but not blood. What the fuck?"

Stiles sat up awkwardly, looking around and frowning. "Blood is covering _everything_. I know it's not real, but it looks like it is. I think... I think I need to talk to Deaton."

"I'll drive you," Derek said, standing and helping Stiles up.

"Can't believe we wasted the pancake mix," he muttered, looking down at the mess on the floor. "Although, at the moment, it definitely doesn't look like pancake mix," Stiles groaned.

"Which book did you use for the spell? We should show Deaton."

Stiles looked away from the puddle of blood on the floor. "The book with the clouds on the cover. It's under one of my psychology books in the library."

Derek nodded and covered Stiles' eyes with his hand. "Keep your eyes closed, Stiles. I don't want you to faint again." He felt a brush of eyelashes against his palm and slowly pulled his hand away, satisfied that Stiles had followed his instruction. "I'll be right back."

Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later with Stiles' book in hand, Derek saw that Stiles was still standing there with his eyes closed, lips in a firm line and his hands clenched by his sides in his determination to stay that way.

"We have to get changed, big guy. I don't want to turn up at Deaton's in pyjamas with pancake mix on my ass," Stiles said when he heard Derek return.

"All right. I'll carry you upstairs. Do you want me to dress you?" Derek offered.

"I should be fine for a few minutes to get dressed. I'll let you know if I'm wrong," Stiles added.

"Good. Carrying you now, hold on to my shoulders."

Stiles clung onto him and Derek ran upstairs in a matter of seconds. Stiles took a deep breath before he opened his eyes and though he winced at the sight before him, he forced himself to get changed without help. Stiles only hoped that Deaton would be able to help.

...


	7. Chapter 7

Once Stiles was dressed, he and Derek went downstairs to the Jeep, and Stiles let out a low heartbroken moan when he saw Roscoe covered in blood. While he knew it wasn't real, it still wasn't pretty, and Stiles barely overcame the urge to either be sick or immediately clean his baby. He realised that Derek hadn't driven since coming back from Mexico, and probably not much before then either, so he took a few minutes to instruct him in the art of driving Roscoe before he let them leave. Derek looked a little nervous, but he forced himself to get in the car when Stiles let out another groan as blood started bubbling out of the ground itself.

The ride to Deaton's was quiet, Stiles uncharacteristically silent when forced with blood-drenched surroundings. He kept his eyes closed for the most part, a low groan left him when he opened his eyes, and with a pale face and full-bodied shudder, Stiles shut his eyes again.

Deaton seemed surprised at their arrival, but let them inside the clinic without a word, though Derek could tell that he was taking in everything and trying to analyse it to determine what had happened. Stiles was pale when Derek set him down on one of the chairs, the cloud-covered book gripped tight in his hands.

"I'm not opening my eyes if there's puppies around; that's just cruel," Stiles said.

"We're in an examination room, no animals," Derek replied, his hand on Stiles' shoulder and squeezing gently.

"May I see the spell you used?" Deaton asked.

Stiles reluctantly opened his eyes, looked relieved for a split second, and then found the spell before handing the book to Deaton.

"Ah, I see. For your nightmares?" Deaton asked, looking to Derek.

He nodded, trying not to feel embarrassed or judged by the older man.

"The spell's consequences are only temporary, it should wear off by noon at the latest. Since you stopped a nightmare, you now have to live through your own nightmare instead. You should know that magic does not come freely, Stiles," Deaton added.

"Yeah, I know that."

"The longer that you use this spell, the longer the consequence will be, until you no longer know the difference between real and dream."

Stiles' expression turned to pure stubbornness. "I'm not going to stop. If it's helping Derek, then I don't care, and you can't stop me!"

"I never said I was going to. I was simply going to suggest you use another spell. It takes longer to master, and some of the herbs are difficult to find locally, but they help temper the spell's consequence so it only lasts an hour instead of increasing every time," Deaton said, turning to his own books and taking one off the shelf.

"As long as it works, I'm happy," Stiles replied firmly, reaching up to cover Derek's hand on his shoulder.

Deaton nodded. "I'll get a copy of the spell for you; I'll be back soon."

As soon as Deaton had left, Derek moved so he was in front of Stiles. "I don't want you to do the spell."

"What?"

"You're going to keep doing this one until you've mastered the other one; I don't want you to do that to yourself. What if you hurt yourself? You have no idea what these living nightmares could be doing to you."

Stiles didn't bother arguing or denying either of Derek's claims. "How about six times a week?"

"No."

"Five?"

"No."

"Four, and that's my final offer."

"No."

"Ugh, fine, three?"

Derek stayed silent for a moment, a myriad of emotions flitting across his face - guilt, need, want, more guilt - but he eventually nodded.

"Good. Because you know, if you hadn't agreed to it, I was going to do it anyway," Stiles said.

"Yeah, I know," Derek said, sighing.

"Hey, stop with the guilt. It's my decision, my choice, and even knowing everything Deaton just told us, I'd still do it all over again. I might not be able to fix you, big guy, but if I can lessen that bitch's poisonous words even a little bit, it's a start."

Derek clenched his hands by his sides, pressing each of his fingertips into his palms - _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_ \- and then finally nodded.

Stiles hugged Derek firmly. "We'll get through this, okay, big guy? I promise."

He nodded, wrapping his arms around Stiles and burying his face against the curve of Stiles' neck and shoulder. "Okay," he mumbled, his words muffled against his shirt and skin.

...

It took a month for Stiles to gather all of the necessary ingredients, and then another month to master the spell itself. In that time, the Kate in Derek's mind fought against Stiles' every word, and had started to abuse Derek physically as well as verbally.

The first night Stiles faced that nightmare, his shock woke him up, and he spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom vomiting. When he was finished, the acrid taste burning his throat, Stiles hated Kate even more than he ever had before. He was tempted to contact Lydia, to ask her to bring the pieces of Kate back to life, just so he could murder the bitch all over again. Stiles refrained and went back to the bedroom to see Derek sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, back hunched, and face terrifyingly blank.

"Derek? Derek, hey, come back to me. Are you okay?"

Derek looked up at him, eyes wide, vulnerable, and pained. "You - I should be asking _you_ that."

"No, you shouldn't. I'm fine, I was just shocked. I wasn't expecting it, so I reacted badly. I'm sorry," Stiles murmured, hugging Derek around the shoulders, holding him until he felt his shoulders slowly relax. "Ready to try again?"

Derek shook his head. "No, you... You shouldn't. You shouldn't see this, I don't want you to see me like this."

Stiles let go of Derek and dropped to his knees so they were as face to face as they could possibly be. "I know you don't want me to see this, Derek. I know you're scared and worried, but I promise, it won't change how I feel for you at all. I still love you, I promise that I mean that. I want to see all of you - good, bad, and the ugly, okay? But - " he added, when Derek went to interrupt, "But if you really don't want me to do this tonight, then just say so, and we'll leave it for when you're ready, understood?"

Derek nodded. He cupped Stiles' face in his palm, thumb stroking along the moles dotted on his cheek. "We'll try again."

Stiles turned his head to kiss Derek's fingers, then he stood up and crawled over Derek - all flailing limbs and sharp joints - to get back to his side of the bed. Derek closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep again. Beside him, Stiles waited a heartbeat longer before following him into his nightmares.

The spell that Deaton had given Stiles allowed him to get his body in Derek's nightmares as well as his voice, though he could never seem to stay solid for long. No matter how much time he had, Stiles used his own body to shield Derek's for as long as he possibly could when Kate tried to hurt him physically. Even if she only tried for a verbal attack, Stiles would still wrap himself around Derek, talking into his ear to combat against Kate's words, to keep him safe from her touch and her poisonous words. Those nights were marginally better than the other nights when Kate got to Derek first, when she attacked him both physically and verbally, and Stiles couldn't get to Derek at all.

That didn't mean he didn't try though. He shoved at Kate, trying to wrench her body off of Derek, who was usually curled up beneath her and shielding his ears the best he could, his eyes screwed shut, his lips moving as he tried to recite and remember all that Stiles had told him on the better nights. When Kate did have a hold on Derek, Stiles tried to talk to Derek, sometimes yelling to get above her noise, her words, her laughter, the silky sound of her words to seduce a young traumatised boy. Those nights were by far the worst.

Nights like those ended in screams, and it was rare for both of them to wake up in the bed, despite Stiles' tendency to octopus across the mattress and Derek's body, and Derek's habit of stealing the sheet and cocooning himself inside.

Stiles felt that he was getting better at the spell though, his body much more solid in Derek's nightmares than it had been in the beginning. Soon, he hoped that he'd be able to take Kate on completely. He wondered if it was possible for anyone other than Derek to get rid of Kate. Probably not, since she was in _his_ head, and Derek would probably be the only one who could remove her safely. Stiles could guide him, try to protect him, but in the end, it would be all up to Derek. For now though, he could keep doing the spell, and hope it would be enough to help his big bad wolf.

...


	8. Chapter 8

Something was wrong with Derek. Well, apart from their usual brand of wrong, at least. It was the first time since returning from Mexico six months ago that Derek had actually asked Stiles to go back to his father for the night, so Stiles knew it had to be big. He'd had his own share of nightmares the night before, and Derek's request had come before caffeine, so it wasn't until Stiles was halfway to the Stilinski residence that he remembered just what day it was.

 _The anniversary of the Hale fire_.

Stiles pulled over to the side of the road for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he tried to determine just what he should do. He desperately wanted to drive straight back to Derek's loft and cover his body from head to toe so Kate wouldn't be able to get to him, but at the same time, Derek had actually _asked_ him to stay away. Derek knew it would be bad, that Kate would get to him no matter what Stiles attempted, and he didn't want him to witness it. Stiles didn't care how bad it would get, he wanted to be there for Derek. But Derek had asked, and he _never_ asked for anything.

"Uggh," he groaned, smacking his head on the steering wheel and wincing. "Fuck! Respect his wishes, or do what's best for him? Goddammit, Derek; why'd you have to go and ask _today_ of all days?" Stiles grumbled under his breath.

He deliberated for another minute before making his decision. Before anything else though, he opened the calendar app on his phone, set a reminder for next year with a full week's advance notice. Then Stiles turned his screen off, threw his phone onto the passenger seat, and turned Roscoe around to head back to the loft.

"Self-sacrificing martyr," he muttered to himself as he went inside, the elevator alarm obviously agreeing with him.

"I thought I told you to go home, Stiles?" Derek said as Stiles entered the loft.

"You did, and here I am. I'm not letting you go through this alone, no matter what you say. The only way you're getting me out of here is by throwing me out yourself," Stiles added firmly, trying to look as fierce as he possibly could. Under-caffeinated and still reeling from his nightmares the night before, Stiles doubted that he looked very fierce at all.

The stern expression on Derek's face slipped slowly, until it crumbled completely under the weight of his emotion and turmoil. Stiles rushed forward to hold Derek up, to croon nonsense words to him, and to get him back to bed.

Derek didn't protest, didn't say a word as Stiles helped him upstairs to bed, even though it was still early, daylight pouring in through the windows from outside. Stiles kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed beside him, still fully clothed. He curled up around Derek and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"What do you want to do? We can run until you can't think anymore, stay in and watch movies, whatever you want, big guy."

Derek ducked his head, looking oddly shy and innocent. "This is good."

"Yeah, it is," Stiles murmured, squeezing Derek briefly. "Sleep; I'll look after you."

Derek made a soft noise of agreement, closing his eyes and trusting Stiles to do exactly that.

Stiles watched as Derek slowly fell asleep, then whispered the spell, his forehead emitting a gentle glow as he followed Derek into his nightmares.

...

Stiles blinked, frowning when he realised that Derek was nowhere in sight. Only Kate could be seen in Derek's dreamscape and beyond her was darkness. No, that wasn't quite right. A low flickering of flames were starting to appear at the edge of Stiles' vision and he could see Kate's form become clearer, almost as solid as Derek usually was. Even though Stiles himself was corporeal, he still felt bile gather at the back of his throat just at the sight of her so solid and lifelike.

"Come on, Derek. This is for the best and you know it. Isn't it always you who deserves to get hurt? You, instead of your friends, your family, your pack," Kate called, laughing as she added more accelerant to the growing flames.

It was then that Stiles realised that the reason he couldn't see Derek was because _Derek was behind the flames_. He was hidden by both Kate and the circle of flames around him, the fire licking closer to his body with every passing moment. Stiles ran forward, with no plan or scheme, nothing more than the desire and will to save Derek.

"Get the fuck away from him, you psychotic bitch!" Stiles yelled, hands outstretched to rip her to pieces.

Kate felt far too solid under his hands. She'd been almost translucent in Derek's recent dreams, as if he was finally fighting her off and she was starting to fade away. Now, she was as solid as Stiles was, and now that he could see him properly, Derek was the one who was translucent and fading.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled, Kate blocking him off with a twisted and evil grin.

"Oh no, he's mine tonight, sweetheart," she sneered.

"The fuck he is," Stiles snarled, shoving at Kate until she stepped back into the flames herself. "Derek, get out of there! You don't deserve this! You didn't hurt your family, _she_ did, and now she's trying to hurt you too. Come on, come out of the flames. Please, Derek," he said, voice breaking.

Derek shook his head weakly, hands clenched tightly beneath his crouched body. "I can take it. My family won't be hurt if I'm hurt in their place. I deserve this."

Stiles knew then that arguing would be pointless. Derek might not believe Kate's words anymore, but this he believed; he just needed to be stronger than everyone, to hold himself together long enough to survive so that others wouldn't be hurt, and Derek would do this to himself every night over if it meant saving the ones he loved.

Stepping over the flames and Kate's fallen body, Stiles walked into the circle of flames, resting a hand on Derek's shoulder gently. Derek looked up at him, eyes filled with tears and shimmering with the reflection of the flames.

"Don't ask me to leave. I... I need to do this."

"I know," Stiles said with a nod, sinking down to sit in front of Derek, staying with him in the flames, ignoring the circle encroaching and creeping closer. "I thought the same about my mother when I was younger. I wanted to be a superhero so bad; I was going to have the power to heal anything with just the touch of my hands. I... I sat beside her for hours, just holding her hand and willing that she would be well again. It didn't work, of course, but... If I'd been offered the option to be sick instead of her, I would've taken it in a heartbeat."

Derek was silent across from him, sensing that Stiles wasn't done yet.

"And y'know what? If that had somehow come true, if I'd been sick instead of her, then she would've taken the same deal to make me better. It hurts us when our loved ones are hurting, especially when we have no way of helping them, healing them, and we'd do anything to take that pain away from them. I can't do that, I know I can't, even with everything else I can do, so instead of taking your pain away, I'm going to stay with you. I'll go through it with you, Derek, every step of the way, okay?"

Derek cried then, wiping away his tears on his forearm, and he nodded. "Okay." He let Stiles guide him down into his lap, curling up in the foetal position with his head resting on Stiles' lap. He held his hand, clenching tightly as the flames reached them. "Thank you."

Stiles couldn't think of a response so instead, he just pressed a kiss to the back of Derek's palm. Then, as the flames started to lick at his clothes, Stiles closed his eyes and waited for the end.

Outside the ring of fire, neither Derek nor Stiles noticed that Kate was fading away to a translucent colour again.

...

Stiles woke up with a gasp, heavily breathing as he tried to fill his lungs with air instead of the smoke he was sure was still in them. He patted his body down, feeling legs and arms and chest and even his hair still all there. Then he turned and did the same to Derek, reassuring himself that they were both alive.

"Sorry," Derek said, voice soft and weak.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I chose it, remember? It's just... a bit of a jolt between the end and _this_ ," he said, indicating to the bed.

Derek nodded, far too used to the sudden transition between his dream death and waking. He held out his arms and Stiles pressed himself against his chest, hugging him tightly.

"You know that you don't deserve that, right? Not in place of anyone or as repentance or to be absolved from guilt. You don't deserve it any more than your family did, and you _don't_ have anything to feel guilty about," Stiles added, his voice firm and certain.

Derek stayed silent for a long time, so long that Stiles had started to doze off when Derek spoke again. "Kate was the one to blame for the fire, and I feel guilty for being the one to lead her to my home and family. But she would have found them eventually: she was a hunter, and unfortunately, she was _good_ at being a hunter. It's not something I can let go of easily, but I can try," Derek said, his words slow and careful, as though he was just realising the truth of them for himself.

Stiles bit back a comment about Yoda. Instead, he turned and hugged Derek around the waist, trying to wordlessly convey just how proud he was of his big bad wolf. They'd both get better eventually, he knew it and Stiles would wait for that day for both of them, whether it was the same day or years between.

...


	9. Chapter 9

_Six months later..._

"Remind me again why I decided to do this?" Stiles groaned, his head resting on his keyboard; Derek was pretty sure the document on the screen was filling in with a solid page of gibberish as a result.

"You wanted to help people. Also because you'll go stir-crazy if you don't keep yourself occupied."

"I can be occupied by watching TV - ah, shit," Stiles muttered, seeing the page of gibberish that had been written. He selected the text and deleted it, looking at the two sentences he'd written for his essay's introduction, then sighed heavily. "I heard you head out this morning; everything okay?"

"I went out for a run with Scott. We got to the end of the trail before coming back. Stop procrastinating."

Stiles turned around in his chair to look at Derek. "I'll pay you to do my essay."

Derek snorted, shook his head, and returned to his book. "You can't afford me, Stilinski. Now, put on that background music you like and study."

Stiles groaned and turned back to the computer. As Derek had suggested, he opened up <a href="https://www.noisli.com">Noisli<a/> in his browser and selected a few different sounds for productivity, steering clear of the fire crackling and water dripping sounds for both their sakes. Stiles had found out the hard way that he didn't like using headphones anymore, needing to stay aware of surroundings at all times, but the music provided enough distraction for him to focus on his studies.

Stiles wrote his essay and was eventually jolted back to the present by an alarm going off. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself at the realisation that he hadn't noticed the last... three hours, telling himself that he was safe. He counted his fingers, just to be sure - _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten_. When he was sure he was awake and safe, Stiles looked over to Derek, who had turned the alarm off and was waiting for Stiles to readjust to their surroundings again before approaching. With Stiles' emissary studies advancing under Deaton's tutelage, it was another thing they'd found out the hard way, as Stiles' immediate response to someone approaching him unexpectedly was _apparently_ throwing them across the room with a blast of blue light.

"You need to eat lunch, and you wanted to cook something for dinner with your father," Derek reminded him, holding out a plate with a turkey salad wrap.

"Ah, right. Thanks. Will you read over my essay while I'm cooking? It's not great; feel free to make notes," Stiles said, pressing a kiss to Derek's cheek as he took the plate.

"All right," Derek replied, taking Stiles' seat at the computer.

Stiles ate the wrap as he headed to the kitchen, licking his fingers clean and rinsing his hands and plate under a stream of warm water. The loft was quiet as he prepared the ingredients for that night's meal and Derek read over his assignment. It was a steady and calming silence, one that he didn't feel the need to fill, and the kind of silence he'd started appreciating far more since bringing Derek back from Mexico.

"I changed a couple of sentences around to make it flow better, but for the most part, it looks good," Derek announced as he headed towards the kitchen. "Need any help?"

Stiles shook his head. "I'll be all right. Did you eat lunch?"

Derek nodded. "Ate three wraps and had a glass of juice."

"Such a good wolf," Stiles said with a proud smile.

Derek ducked his head shyly and made his way into the kitchen for a quick kiss. "I was thinking about completing my degree."

Stiles made a soft noise of surprise, but didn't say anything else.

"Not right now, and probably not for the rest of the year, but maybe next year when the new semester starts up again. I'd like to try, but I don't want to push myself to do it now; I know I'm not ready for the sort of stress it involves with exams and essays and everything else. I'd like to focus on my mental health before I do any of that," Derek added.

Stiles set the knife down, turned, and kissed Derek firmly on the lips. "I'm so glad you're even considering your mental health, Derek. You won't rush into anything, will you?"

Derek shook his head, licking his lips to taste Stiles again. "I won't. I'd prefer not to undo all of our hard work. Besides, Marin will be disappointed if I miss out on any of my therapy sessions," he added wryly.

Derek had been the one to suggest going to therapy. After a few weeks of reading Stiles' psychology books over his shoulder and realising just how much of it applied to his own life and circumstances, he thought it would be a good idea to talk to someone about it. Of course, finding someone in the know when it came to the supernatural was harder to come by, until Stiles returned from one of his sessions with Deaton stating that Ms. Morrell was back in town.

Derek had suggested her as a therapist, but Stiles had been difficult to convince. In the end, it was John who had convinced Stiles, stating how helpful Marin had been as his counsellor before all of the business with the Darach and Alpha pack. Now that Marin had returned alone, with all of her ties to the Darach and Alpha pack severed, she might be trustworthy. Eventually, Stiles had relented.

He and Derek had agreed to meet Marin at a place where they both felt safe and comfortable - a small office building down the road from the loft that had been unoccupied for years; it was close enough for Derek to walk there and back, and for Stiles to see him coming down the road. The first few sessions had involved Stiles sitting by Derek's side, glowering at Marin fiercely. Until he was certain that Derek would be safe while alone with her, Stiles refused to leave Derek alone. Marin didn't judge them for that as others had done, and simply talked to Derek in her usual calm way.

Four sessions later, Stiles was assured that Derek would be safe. He'd put his own wards on the place and ensured that Derek went into his therapy sessions with a length of leather that was spelled and charmed to call Stiles if he ever felt unsafe or threatened. It reassured Derek to know that Stiles was there, even if he wasn't by his side. Though he clutched the leather strap here and there, Derek spent most of his sessions with Marin trying to talk about everything that had happened and listen to her suggestions or ideas. Not all of them he agreed with - colouring books took him right back to his childhood and almost gave him a panic attack on the spot - but the point was that he tried.

More often than not, his nightmares were turning into dreams instead. There were nights when Derek or Stiles still woke up with a cold sweat, or Stiles knew from the set of Derek's jaw that he needed to help him through his nightmares. Kate was no longer as solid as she had been in Derek's previous nightmares, and there were times when Derek couldn't even hear her voice over the sound of Stiles.

Stiles smiled and hugged him tightly, Derek hugging him back and burying his head into the curve of Stiles' neck and shoulder. "I'm proud of you, y'know that, right? Whether you get your degree or if you decide you want to be a technology-deprived hermit, I'm so proud of you."

Derek smiled against his neck. "In that case, I want to be a technology-deprived hermit."

"Still proud of you," Stiles replied, grinning.

For the first time in over a year, Derek - his big bad wolf - _laughed_.

Stiles kissed Derek again and returned to the kitchen bench, smiling.

They were together and they were happy. That was more than enough for now.

...

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for reading; I hope you enjoyed it! :)


End file.
